Gathering My Breath
by vikingforev
Summary: After second season. Helena's point of view. M content in later chapters... I've contemplated death. The vast majority of this sickening planet has. More should with its many evils. Yet, I cannot rid myself of my troubles because I'll be giving up the one woman who has captured my love. Myka. And she deserves each breath of air the world has to offer.
1. Chapter 1

Glitter splashed across the darkening sky in God's effort for a starry masterpiece. He succeeded; crowds of humans just like me gathered around Ally Park to behold the true beauty graciously offered. We connected on some level unknown when related to the plane of physicality. All characteristics we seemingly shared brought our souls into existence. It sounded absurd to repeat this thought in my head until desire conquered reality, and my desperate plea for an unforeseen yet certain love was met with utter passion.

I stood mere inches away from the taller woman whose lanky appearance I found completely adorable. Her neck grew long when she lifted her soulful brown eyes above; they sought home while my own sought them softened with the expression one might now call longing but I'd agree only on hope. Hopeful as she may be, her work within the Warehouse craved her happiness. Like a cancer I myself was treated for, the job filled you with false senses. The life-long struggle to rid the world of unimaginable evils blanketed the underlying issue that the world was evil. We as humans played our part in loading the gun, yet now we cower in fear that the trigger may very well be pulled?

Let us not forget the Warehouse provides a home, but to our acting 'parents' we agents own nothing. Not even the amount of humanity left after incidents such as my daughter's passing may be spared. Perhaps long ago before I was bronzed, if my supervisors reasonably allowed me a tear upon the cheek rather than thrust the responsibility of artifacts that would eventually lead me to believe I may be able to bring my Christina back, I would have never been doubted nor grown insane in their eyes.

But business was my life's meaning. I let it be until I fell to my knees begging to be encased for over hundreds of years in hopes I'd awaken to a new era uncovered by innocence and wonderment. Instead I realize the world has gradually morphed into a formidable opponent I face once more, but bare of the advanced knowledge I once had in society.

A tap on the shoulder draws me out of my worries. My near black, brown eyes swivel to the side and greet Myka's, "Darling, what a surprise you'd be here."

"Not really, Helena," her words sting like a reopened wound settled close to my beating heart. Myka can only stare at my passing wince through narrowed eyes before she sucks in her cheeks. A grand habit meaning she was pensive over what might she say or do next.

I rescue her from her anxiety by allowing myself to succumb to the tension, "I am not looking for any artifact at the moment. If that's what's worrying you." Then I hesitantly look away. Spying the hurt resurfacing on the other female's face crumbles down my walls. It's what separated her from the rest-she didn't have to try to understand. Myka just did.

Her response is a rather long pause to study me; the truth behind my words deserved a critic. I myself lied with the truth. Too many times has this Myka Bering been deceived by my antics-to gain the right to finally pull the trigger or return my daughter, that she is the only being I'd accept punishment for.

My palms grow clammy, but I play myself off calm as I usually do. A mask to wear when my fate seemed in the hands of Death's whether or not I initially wished it so.

"Then why are you here, HG?" This time Myka folds her slender arms over her chest. She speaks authority, and demands my answers to be less vague.

"Enjoying the evening, dear Myka. Awaiting the fireworks. Might I remind you I've never seen them. Not quite like this," my voice grows soft with admiration. Again my attention lands on the agent as she shifts what little weight she has from her left hip to her right. We remain silent; I suspect she's building up a counter attack to my harmless reason for being out in public on the 4th of July.

But instead I hear a "Oh" followed by what might possibly be a lengthy sigh.

"Are you going to end the world after the display? Or will the oh so understanding HG Wells give us a chance?"

I turn on her sharply, but cannot fight when it looks as if pain threatens her composure. Swallowing an invisible lump in my throat I deem guilt, I talk with my hands in defeat.

"I am not planning on destroying the world, Myka. At least not for the time being. I find myself pitifully stuck between despising earth, and appreciating whom inhabit this planet."

Shouts from afar reveal why Myka's presence has honored me. She steals one more glance in my direction, willing me to behave, then off she darts into the mass of Boston citizens. I release a shaky breath and lean against a nearby stranger for support. The drunk man only fails to notice the recently administered weight; he continues to gulp down the remainder of his beer. I imagine the beer is his only escape from chaos. I come to terms that Myka is mine.

An hour later, after watching the fireworks show, I decide to wander Boston. With no hint of where my destination will be, I slow my pace to stop at a traffic light. Cars zoom past me making strange beeping sounds that Claudia once explained came from their horns. Certain colors cross my vision, but they glow so bright amidst the midnight air that I squint.

Admittedly, my feelings for Myka kept me in the park. I must have been the last person to leave; it was terribly silly of me to honestly think she'd come back to strike up a conversation as if we were two old pals reunited under the orange moon's effulgence.

No, it was reckless. Myka has placed me on her list of people she does not, and may never, favor. This was a decision met fairly for if I was in her position I'd have done the same if not more towards a negative effect. We are two people who can never find comfort in eachother unless the other is prepared for betrayal. Both of us are far from the ability to stand on our feet again if knocked down by a force to be reckoned with.

Turning onto Willow avenue, I began searching the street for hotels. This area of Boston was famous for decent rooms; the last problem I'd want to come true would be waking up in a Motel 6 with a cockroach crawling beneath my bedsheets.

Once I settled into the western-themed hotel room, I gained the courage (and stupidity) to venture the large building. Years of designs meant to stimulate the sense of being at home only created a horrid mood from me; hotels had yet to change since my life before the bronzing. Stylish armchairs decorated the narrow hallways, finding use when an adult came out to suck on a cigarette. Breathing out wispy, grey smoke through his nose, a gentleman tilted his head towards me with an unmistakable attraction twinkling beneath a thin veil of regret in his eyes. On nights like this, one might take the risk of waking bare next to a stranger in the morning; half the time the world showed its true colors when presented with a cloak we call nighttime. Its stealth saved for the last dance with Uncertainty, but rendered broken when lingering Responsibility cuts in.

"Ma'am," he hummed with growing pleasure at my careless pause so close to him in the hall, "Migh' I 'elp you wit' anythin'?"

An uncanny resemblance made itself apparent by the man's voice. Although his southern accent slowed his speech, the sir's tone reminded me of Pete's. Quite annoying because of the fact I've been avoiding anything related to the Warehouse since my disappointing encounter with the woman I knew I had fallen so helplessly in love with.

"No, no. You only reminded me of someone I once knew."

"Ahuh, 'ope it wasn't one o' your ole boyfrien's?"

"Heavens no," I reassured the sir with a faint smirk. "Perhaps an ally before we had our unfortunate parting, but never a boyfriend."

"You go' one? A boyfrien'?"

He was direct in his inquiries, but so was I in my responses. "No, and I'm afraid I'm not looking for one at the time being."

With that said, I bid him a well night and continued to explore the unknown territory until I ended up at the edge of the pool. Suicide was a deafening disease when everything screamed in your ears. Your body became numb due to unsaid promises; it became barren of a soul that once strived for life. A person that had been beaten one too many times by Failure when forced into the match.

I reached to free myself of the blazer I wore today, followed by: my belt, shoes, and jewelery (with the exception of my locket carrying Christina's picture). Praying for forgiveness from whatever divine power ruled from the heavens, I went to plunge into the still waters.

But I faltered when her voice extended from beyond the shadows, "What are you doing?"

For a minute I pretended in vain it was my imagination that conjured up her sweet voice, but when Myka came out of hiding I could no longer dismiss my embarrassment.

Myka drew her eyebrows together in confusion, "Helena?"

"It would seem destiny loves to toy with me. I must appear a willing pawn in its game," was all I could manage.

"Helena...w-what's going on with you lately? Why are you standing over a pool with half your clothes on the floor?" The agent came forward, but stopped at a safe distance. Smart girl.

"I thought I'd take a long swim." My dry humor concerned her, so I added, "You can always rid yourself of your thoughts when submerged beneath the water's surface. I can't count how many times I used this method after my Christina was taken from me. It somehow helped smooth the bumps along the road."

"A temporary solution not meant to be permanent."

Myka finally stood her ground by walking in my direction until her breath became my air. She flashed her palms to prove she was harmless, and dared to embrace me in a chaste hug. There stood a moment for me to register it all, but once I did my body went limp against her's. Sobbing was unprofessional, but even as I told myself that-I was leaving tear stains on her coat.

"They took my baby. They took her from me," I cried pointlessly. My words were muffled by clothing, but they were clear enough to be understood.

"I know...and I'm so sorry, Helena. I wish I could say it'll get better but...even I don't know." Myka attempted to soothe me by rubbing my back, but awkwardly stopped midway. Actions like this caused me to believe she had fallen for me too, but I didn't want to foolishly mistake close friendship for something more.

"What I can say...is that I'm here. And I know it may not mean much, but I'm right here. Even when the world seems like it's turn its back on you, I haven't. I-I mean...you don't have to pretend you're alright around me because you obviously aren't, HG. I know that, and I want you to know that," Myka struggled with her words, but she had no idea how perfectly they fit the situation. "Helena, I'm...trying to fix this. Fix you. No, that sounds wrong, but-"

"On the contrary," I sniffled. "I need fixing."

"Then I'm doing that. If you'll just let me."

Feeling her finally wrapped around my body, I withdrew swiftly. Myka slowly curved her lips into an unsure frown. I pausingly placed my hand on her forearm.

"Thank you, Myka, but I'm afraid you cannot melt broken, stained glass without rearranging it into a new piece of art."

"But, HG, I'm not trying to change you," Myka almost shouted in irritation. She closed the distance between us once more; my breathing hitched and my mind urged me to act on impulse, but I could only stand there and gaze at her.

"Myka...please."

Vulnerability was a tricky thing. One might refer to it with a coin toss, there were two ways it could lead to. The first was denial or being casted out, but the second was worth everything-acceptance.

"Look Helena, I may have left you in that park, but I'm not about to do that again. Especially when you're thinking about freaking killing yourself! Don't ask me to simply turn my head, HG. I'll blame myself if you do," the taller woman ceased to surprise me. I was speechless for a good minute or two.

"Myka Bering, never have I encountered anyone who could leave a brilliant author without words on their tongue. Never until I met you. I suppose...," I trailed off to include the sky with a flick of my wrist, "...fate has it that I live. If only to please you. To save you from future guilt."

"Good. Then fate's working in our favor. Now...pick up your clothes and we can go to your room or mine." Before I could protest, Myka warned me, "I'm not leaving you alone tonight. Not until I know you aren't going to commit suicide."

"Very well, darling."


	2. Chapter 2

The way she sulks deserves a well rounded tisk. After all, it was I who stood mere minutes ago over a pool of beckoning water - prepared to jump into Death's arms whole-heartedly. Myka doesn't understand the loss of a child, but she tried to, and that has always irked me. It has also put her at the top of my list of people I care about in this forsaken world. It's the reason I gave into my humanity and resisted the urge to put an end to humankind once and for all.

Helena - they would say before their deaths - the bringer of the apocalypse. The bringer of death and destruction; the evil. Andin their stupidity, religious figures will dub me the devil. How absurd to believe in such a thing. Even if I wanted, no hoped, that my Christina rested in a field of barley.

Myka eventually finds herself, gripping her farnsworth too tightly. We had returned to her room instead of mine for two reasons: she preferred the sanctuary her room provided (packed with all her belongings), and my room was left empty and depressing. I knew it; she knew it. The curly haired brunette dares a peek at me, and when she notices me gazing, she whips her attention somewhere else. The ticking of a nearby clock drives us into insanity - utterly annoyed and anxious. Words escape Myka's lips drawing me back from my mind and its all too numbing thoughts, "You wouldn't've...would you? You would've stopped even if I hadn't come, right?"

"You know me so well, Agent Bering. Tell me - did it seem as if I would have backed away?" It aches and it scars my mind, but the pain that flits across Myka's features is so genuine that in a way it comforts too. I heave a sigh, contemplating my next choice of words, "Even I do not know, Myka. Who knows if I would've dived in, I might have resisted the pull? I would have come up for air and gotten out. Perhaps the chill of the water would spark my will to survive, would have edged me away from that absolution and push my to redemption."

"All I'm hearing is a lot of maybe's, Helena, and something like this...you can't do that. Maybe isn't used for stuff like this."

"I said perhaps," I note, smirking if only a fraction when she scowls at my dry humor. I know everything I say will hurt her, and so I wish only to lighten the mood. It's never her fault, but she always believes it is. She always believes I am her responsibility. To have someone protect me like that ..I never had someone protect me. I was ever the protector. The shift in positions once put me on edge, but now it only serves as a reminder that though I am far beyond my time , both in this era and the era I was born into, I am still very much human. I still crave a gentle touch and Myka is more than offering.

Said agent falters in step and sits down on the bed beside me, but far from me, and runs a hand through her curly mane. "What am I going to do with you, Helena?"

She sounds defeated, weak, worried, and it chases away my tactics. It makes me act on reflex. I lean towards her and place a shaky hand on her knee, "Myka, look at me. I can take care of myself. I am a grown woman, darling. I make my decisions as I please. You do not have to tether yourself to me. You are free from whatever idiotic choice I happen to make, Myka. I know you feel as if you have to watch over me, but you don't. I am not your responsibility. I'm not even the Warehouse's responsibility."

Myka refuses to listen to my reasoning, and yet she does. She understands but she's not giving up so easily. I sigh. Everything within this death trap of a world is complex and confusing. It's a puzzle._ Wells and Bering: solving puzzles and saving the day. _How unfortunate. I never I

intended this nor welcome it. "Helena, you're staying here. In my room. Just for the night until I know you won't do anything like that again."

I might have argued but I am too tired to resist, and she is too concerned to rebel against. I hang my head like a kicked pup. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her scanning the room taking in the arrangements. We only have one bed, but there is a couch. I rise before I can accept her offer and stalk towards the couch, "As you wish, darling. I shall take the couch."

"No, Helen-"

"I am your guest. I will not kick you out of your own bed."

I see her internal struggle, but she says it. She says it and something beneath my chest flutters. Her voice is so painfully low and husky. It's thoughtful and challenging. My knees weaken altogether. "We can share the bed."

As if that's left unfinished, Myka adds, "I'm not about to put you on the couch either. I'd rather sleep in my bed too. But, it's a pretty big bed. It's Queen sized...it's big enough to share. Besides, and don't take this badly, but it'll help me wake up if you decide to sneak out. I already sleep light, so any slight movement and I'm up. I just...I need to know, Helena...you won't go off and pull something like that when I'm asleep. So, please."

How could I say no? When Myka pleads, I deliver. I nod slowly and claim the left side of the bed, farther from the door to ease her stress. She smiles. It's such a small gesture, but she appreciates it. We climb into bed without another word and reach over to shut off both lamps. I lay awake for a good thirty minutes until I hear her snoring. A smile tugs at my lips as I rise to get out of the bed, but her arm flies over and her hand clamps down on mine. Gasping, I still. "Helena,don't. Lay down."

"Just checking, darling," I mumbled quietly into the abyss of darkness. Her hand is so terribly soft that I find myself enjoying her grip. I lay beside her anew and turn to face the woman whose limbs brink on the edge of my side. A smirk now plays across my face. I wonder...so I do exactlythat. I slide my lg closer to hers and press my colder feet to her calf, enjoying the smoothness of her tanned legs beneath the blanket. It's highly unpredictable of me, but I do it.

Myka shudders and groans, turning to face me. She backs her legs away from my side and mutters an apology. "No need to apologize, Myka."

"If Artie and the others saw me now," she cuts in, humoring me.

"Yes, what would they think of you lying in bed with me?"

A blush creeps across her cheeks and she remains silent. I chuckle richly at her shy nature. I need to come off okay. I need to assure her I am fine; I revert back to my old ways of teasing her. My hand comes up to grip hers Iinstead, rubbing circles over her palm with my thumb. Myka doesn't pull away, which suprises myself, but her indifference of the matter also leaves me content. I close my eyes smiling.

"Goodnight, Helena."

"Goodnight, darling."


End file.
